


Nadleeh

by shinigami_yumi



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Western, Blow Jobs, Facial Shaving, Flashbacks, Hand Jobs, M/M, Outdoor Sex, Riding, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-29
Updated: 2013-10-29
Packaged: 2017-12-30 20:53:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1023259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinigami_yumi/pseuds/shinigami_yumi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jared runs a saloon in a frontier town. One night, Misha stumbles in wounded. Jared removes the bullet in Misha's shoulder and hides him, then sneaks him back to the Padalecki family ranch to escape his pursuers. Along the way, they fall in love, but Misha isn't what he seems.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nadleeh

**Author's Note:**

> Ever since I've seen these two,
> 
>  
> 
> they wouldn't leave me alone.
> 
> So I wrote this, but I don't think I have a very good grasp on Westerns, so it probably only vaguely qualifies. Do let me know what you think. The title doesn't imply any connection to the Navajo either; I just really like the sound of the word. I hope you at least enjoy the sexy times.

It’s cool in the barn — today was cloudy, and night came swiftly. Jared is brushing the last horse, a grey mare, down for the night when he hears the barn doors creak on their hinges. The horse nearest to the door neighs, and Jared quickly draws his revolver. In the shadows, he glimpses the silhouette of a man and immediately takes aim.

“Halt or I shoot,” he warns, clicking the safety off. “Who goes there?”

The intruder stops, holding up his hands. “Please don’t shoot, Jare,” and it’s just like the first time they met in his saloon out in town.

  


> _“Please don’t shoot,” the stranger pleads weakly, and Jared’s about to tell him again that they’re closed for the night when he collapses to the floor. The man’s hat falls off to reveal disheveled brown hair and a scruffy face. In the light, it’s clear his shirt is soaked not only from the rain, but also with blood — he’s wounded._
> 
> _Jared quickly clicks the safety back on and holsters his revolver before hurriedly locking the doors, shuttering the windows and putting out the lights. People staggering in after closing tend to be trouble, so he listens carefully for any signs of disturbance outside as he kneels beside the unconscious man._
> 
> _There’s nothing but the sound of rainfall._
> 
> _Perhaps he wasn’t followed after all._
> 
> _He’s cold to the touch, but still breathing, and Jared never could stand by and just let another man die._
> 
> _Grunting a little with effort, he carefully lifts the man into his arms and carries him up the stairs. There’s only one room here, so it’ll have to do. He lays the stranger on his bed, lights a candle, sets the other’s satchel on the table and begins carefully unbuttoning the other’s blue shirt. There’s a bullet lodged in his right shoulder. Jared thinks to call a doctor, but that would only mean discovery. He frowns. He’ll have to get the bullet out. Fortunately, it looks to be just a flesh wound, and the man is merely weak from pain and blood loss._
> 
> _Hurrying back downstairs, he grabs a bottle of rotgut off the bottom shelf and a clean knife before coming back up. There’s a clean piece of cloth in the drawer he can use as bandage, and he can use the man’s shirt to pad the area while he works. Gingerly, he removes the shirt and folds it under the wound. Pouring some alcohol on the knife and wound, he carefully but quickly pries the bullet out. He then pours more spirit on the wound and wraps the clean cloth tightly around it._
> 
> _Surveying his work, he sighs. Hopefully, the man doesn’t start burning up in fever. If he does, a doctor will be unavoidable, and Jared still doesn’t know what kind of trouble the other is running from. He hopes he hasn’t rescued the bad guy._

  


“Misha?” Jared’s not sure he believes his ears. It’s been weeks, nearly a month since Misha vanished without a trace, leaving him alone in the forest.

The other steps forward into the lamplight. “Yes.” He’s dressed in simple robes. No doubt he’d found his people while he’d been gone. “Will you throw me out?” he asks with a tentative smile just like that first morning.

  


> _Sunlight is streaming in faintly through the rafters and shutters when Jared wakes. Remembering the events of last night, he turns to check on the stranger. The man is still unconscious in the same position he’d left him in. He really hopes it’s just the exhaustion. Reaching out, he pushes messy hair out of the way and touches the other’s forehead. It’s not feverish. That’s good. As he retracts his hand, his wrist is sharply gripped and yanked, and he only barely manages not to land on the other man who is now awake._
> 
> _“Wh—Who are you?” the man demands hoarsely. He seems to be struggling with the effort, and Jared tries a friendly and reassuring smile._
> 
> _“It’s okay. I won’t hurt you,” he promises softly. “Do you remember collapsing inside my front door last night?”_
> 
> _The bluest eyes he’s ever seen blink slowly. “I— Yes.” The other lets go. “I’m sorry.”_
> 
> _He shakes his head. “How are you feeling?”_
> 
> _“Terrible.”_
> 
> _He chuckles, then goes to fetch a glass of water. “Here,” he offers, helping the man sit up. In the bright light of day, his guest is handsome despite the unkemptness._
> 
> _The other drains the glass, handing it back before lying back down. “Thank you.”_
> 
> _“I’m Jared,” he opens. “What do I call you?”_
> 
> _The man hesitates, then quietly answers, “Misha.”_
> 
> _“Misha,” Jared sits on the bed beside him. “I need to ask: What kind of trouble are you in?”_
> 
> _Misha smiles wistfully. “If I say I’m being hunted, would you throw me out?”_
> 
> _Surprised by the honesty, Jared shakes his head, tucking the blankets more snugly around Misha’s shoulders. “I’d tell you to stay in here and not make a sound. I have to open the saloon. Gen will be here to cook soon. If people come looking, I’ll tell them I know nothing.”_
> 
> _Blue eyes widen, then Misha grins. “How do you know I’m not some wanted criminal?”_
> 
> _Jared laughs softly, rising. “If you are, you’re a hell of a con, and you should hit the poker tables to pay for room and board. Let me get us some breakfast. I won’t pry any further.”_
> 
> _“Jared?” Misha calls when he reaches the door._
> 
> _He turns to find the other looking at him, guileless and sincere._
> 
> _“You have my thanks. You’re very kind.”_

  


Jared narrows his eyes and answers, “Not before you give back what you stole.”

Misha lowers his head and reaches up to remove the necklace he’s wearing under the robes. “Sorry,” he mumbles, holding it out. “I—I wanted something to remember you by.”

Jared snatches the gold medallion back. It’s a family piece with his initials stamped into the front and the Padalecki crest stamped into the back. Every member of his family has one. It’s made even before their christening. He inspects it to make sure it’s the genuine article before pocketing it, but doesn’t lower the gun. “You stole a lot more than that,” he accuses bitterly, and Misha’s expression grows pained.

“It was always an exchange to me,” he replies sadly, looking up to meet Jared’s eyes, and maybe Misha really is the greatest con — it feels like he’s fallen for this before.

“Why’d you leave, Mish?”

“The spirits told me they were coming. I didn’t want to get you in trouble for sheltering me.”

“Then why’d you come back?”

Blue eyes flash, then Misha is surging forward, pushing the gun away. “Why d’you think?” he bites out, and suddenly, they’re kissing —desperate, heated— and Jared is slamming Misha into the wall. “I missed you, JT; I missed you,” Misha moans, breaking off to run his hands through Jared’s hair, and Jared sets the gun down on the nearby crates to lift Misha for a better angle.

“Liar,” he groans, plundering the other’s mouth and shifting in closer.

Misha wraps his legs around Jared’s waist, pressing their groins together. “Let me show you how much. So many nights, touching myself instead of meditating — all I could think about was you, Jared. You’ve ruined me.”

Jared runs his hands up Misha’s thighs —he’s wearing nothing else under the robe— and Misha cries out as he squeezes that tight round ass, arching his back and tilting his head back in invitation, and _oh._

Oh, _that’s_ why it had seemed familiar that night.

  


> _That night after closing, he heads upstairs with some mutton broth and bread to find Misha looking at the books on his shelf, completely unclothed. Misha starts when he enters, hastily puts the book he was holding back and stands as Jared finds himself blushing. Misha is lean but muscular — athletic, and there are strange scars on his back._
> 
> _“You can read them if you want,” he offers, averting his eyes and setting the food down on the table. “I’ve brought you some supper.”_
> 
> _Seemingly oblivious of his discomfort, Misha steps closer and squeezes his shoulder. “Thank you, but I don’t read very well. May I… wash? Before I eat?”_
> 
> _“Oh. Of course. The bathroom is right next door, and there’s some clean water in there.”_
> 
> _It takes several moments for Jared to realize he never gave Misha a washcloth, so he quickly finds a clean one and hurries next door — only to find the door still wide open and Misha looking balefully at the razor in its basin. The other turns as soon as he steps through the doorway._
> 
> _“I came to give you this,” he explains quickly, holding out the washcloth and keeping his gaze above neck level. “And you can use the razor if you want.”_
> 
> _Misha shakes his head, taking the washcloth. “Can’t raise my right arm, can’t do it with my left hand.”_
> 
> Oh. _“I could help you,” Jared offers._
> 
> _The other hesitates, then nods. “Please. It would… I’d be grateful. More so.”_
> 
> _Jared picks up the razor, checks if it’s still clean and sharp, then picks up a nearby bottle of oil. Pouring a little onto his fingers, he rubs the oil gently into the scruff on Misha’s chin and neck. Misha leans into the touch like a cat and smiles contentedly when he shifts to a scratching motion, blue eyes twinkling. He grins, rubbing more oil into the area before reaching for the razor._
> 
> _There’s something alluring about the way Misha simply tilts his head back as Jared lifts the razor to his jaw, something inviting about the way his lips part and his breath hitches when the razor slowly scrapes across his skin. He sighs when Jared cups the back of his head with one hand, to both hold him in place and support him, and closes his eyes. It seems familiar in a way Jared can’t place. Finished, he bends to set the razor down, regretting that he can’t scratch Misha’s scruffy chin like a kitten anymore._
> 
> _Misha hurriedly turns away. “Thank you,” he says, wringing the washcloth in his hands, and it’s inexplicably awkward all of a sudden._
> 
> _“Uh… Y—you’re welcome,” Jared stutters, hurrying out and closing the door behind him. He heads back to the bedroom to find something Misha can borrow while his clothes are cleaned, confused._
> 
> _What was that about, suddenly?_

  


He sucks a mark into Misha’s neck, warm arms holding him in place as he lowers the other onto the nearby bales of hay. Misha rolls them over to straddle Jared’s hips as he nimbly undoes his clothes and wraps his hand around Jared’s cock.

“This is how I do it,” he murmurs into Jared’s ear, stroking hard and tracing the vein on the underside, and Jared can’t help but thrust into that tight grip, that teasing touch. “And I keep wondering if you’re lying in bed, touching yourself, thinking of me under the same stars.” He circles the tip, flicks at the ridge below with his thumb, and Jared moans.

“God, Misha, please.”

“Tell me, Jare. Tell me how you do it, how it’s good.”

“Harder, Mish. Tug a little. Ah, yesyesyes.”

“Do you think of me, like I think of you?”

Jared shakes his head, nuzzling into Misha’s neck. “Hurt too much, thought you’d just left without a word.”

  


> _When they come for Misha, they come with a Wanted poster. It must be new — Jared’s never seen it before. He has little choice but to let them search the place, but they don’t find Misha, and he worries. He asks what Misha has done to get a bounty on his head, but he doesn’t believe Misha is the murderer they claim he is. When he closes for the night, still worried, he heads upstairs to find Misha looking at his books again, still in his shirt from the night before._
> 
> _“I thought you left,” he blurts as Misha stands._
> 
> _“Should I have?”_
> 
> _Jared shakes his head. “I was worried that they’d find you.”_
> 
> _Misha nods. “Sheltering me would get you in trouble.”_
> 
> _“That’s not what I meant.”_
> 
> _Blue eyes widen. “Even though I’m a murderer on the run?”_
> 
> _Jared sits down on the bed, knees apart. “I don’t believe that.”_
> 
> _“You barely know me.” Misha closes the distance to stand between Jared’s knees._
> 
> _Their eyes meet. “Did you?”_
> 
> _Misha drops his gaze. “Yes. I… I had no choice.”_
> 
> _Silently, he waits for Misha to elaborate._
> 
> _“They were about to kill my friend and I. I had to stop them, and I did, but it was too late. I couldn’t save her.”_
> 
> _Jared takes the other’s hands. “That’s not murder.”_
> 
> _Misha shakes his head, still looking down. “Regardless, I took another’s life.”_
> 
> _Jared hugs him then — because it feels like he needs it. “I’m glad I was right about you.”_

  


“Would you have let me go?” Misha murmurs the question against his skin before swirling a wet tongue around his left nipple.

Jared shakes his head, arching into the contact. “You didn’t have to.” He wraps his hand around his lover’s erection, mirrors the exact motions he’s been shown. “I’d keep you safe.”

Misha bites back a whimper, fingers digging into Jared’s shoulder. “Nngh, J—JT, please,” Misha gasps, thrusting into his hand and aligning their hips. Their hands move in sync now, their cocks rubbing together as they stroke each other as one. “Scared they’d kill you too,” he mumbles, mouthing at Jared’s jaw. “Can’t bear it, can’t lose anyone else, Jare. Especially you.”

Jared can’t help smiling at that. He reaches around with his free hand. “Do you touch here too?”

He presses in, and Misha cries out sharply as he spills on their hands, hips jerking, and then Jared is coming as well, groaning softly. He pulls Misha into another kiss, enfolding the smaller man in his arms, and Misha kisses back — the afterglow hasn’t dulled the edge of voracity.

“Every time,” Misha tells him between kisses. “Can’t get that day in the forest out of my head.”

  


> _“You have got to be kidding me. How can you not know how to ride a horse, Misha? What kind of cowboy are you?”_
> 
> _“But I do know how to ride a horse!” Misha protests. “It just has to be standing still!”_
> 
> _“What?” Jared howls with laughter, head thrown back. “That’s not riding a horse. That’s sitting on it!”_
> 
> _“It’s the same thing!”_
> 
> _With a little help from Gen, Jared successfully smuggled Misha out of town dressed as a lady. Now, back at Jared’s family ranch, Jared wants to show Misha around. The only problem is, Misha can’t seem to stay on his horse for more than a few minutes at a time._
> 
> _Still laughing, Jared replies, “No. No, it isn’t, Mish. C’mere.” Misha obliges, and Jared pulls him up onto his own horse so Misha is tucked in front of him. “It’s not a long ride, so let’s just go. I’ll teach you how to ride a horse properly some other time.”_
> 
> _They set off at a brisk canter with Jared pointing things out as they pass. Misha smiles, leaning into him, and Jared can’t help noticing that Misha always smells clean, like he washes several times a day. He leans down slightly to inhale the other’s spicy, earthy scent. To his surprise, Misha gasps softly. He thinks to ask what’s wrong, but then he notices it — Misha is hard. He doesn’t think he’s mistaking the prominent bulge in borrowed jeans, given the shallow breaths and flushed skin, and he doesn’t expect the flood of desire that washes over him._
> 
> _He guides the horse into a slow trot towards the forest, and asks, “Could you hold on to the reins for a minute, Mish?”_
> 
> _“Yeah, sure,” Misha agrees a little breathlessly, taking the reins, and Jared wraps his arms around the other’s smaller form. “J—Jared?” Misha turns to ask, “Wh—” but Jared captures his lips in a kiss, and just as Jared thinks he might have assumed too much, Misha is kissing back like he’s wanted to for a very long time. He undoes Misha’s pants to cup his balls and free his trapped cock, and Misha cries out into the kiss as he spills, hips jerking._
> 
> _“They’ll kill us,” Misha whispers against his lips as they break off. “Your people don’t believe we should or do exist.”_
> 
> _“My people?” Jared tightens his arms around Misha as they come to a stop in the forest outskirts. “Who are you, really, Mish?”_
> 
> _“I was the medicine man of my tribe. The people hunting me, they came to take our land. When we refused to give it up, they slaughtered us. They want me dead too, so I can’t warn any other tribes. But the spirits have warned them; all I can do is give them specifics.”_
> 
> _“Hide here.” He presses a kiss to Misha’s hairline. “I won’t let them take you.”_
> 
> _Misha shakes his head. “You’re not hearing me, Jared. They’ll kill you too.”_
> 
> _“And what would become of my soul, o’ you who commune with spirits?”_
> 
> _Misha falls silent. At length, he takes Jared’s hand and holds it to his heart. “On my journey through the Underworld, I would keep you by my side.”_
> 
> _Jared smiles, fingers curling in the other’s shirt. “Lucky me. I would find no better guide.”_
> 
> _The horse fidgets and whines beneath them, and Jared dismounts before reaching up to catch Misha in his arms. Misha smiles and kisses him, then leads him further into the forest._
> 
> _“Come, Jared. There’s a river nearby, isn’t there? With a waterfall?”_
> 
> _“Yes,” he answers, following obligingly._
> 
> _Misha’s step is light but surefooted, and Jared has no doubt he knows exactly where he’s headed. He feels clumsy in comparison, like he’s ill fit to traverse the land he grew up on._
> 
> _Then they’re at the river, and the waterfall he last saw as a little boy is beautiful. But then Misha cups his face and kisses him, clothes already discarded on a nearby rock, and that’s beautiful too. Jared begins trailing his fingertips lightly up and down that lean body, then somehow, his clothes have joined Misha’s on the rock, and they’re wading into the cool water._
> 
> _They cover each other in soapsuds with the soap from Jared’s pack, running their hands over smooth skin and planes of muscle. As they rinse off under the waterfall, Misha loops his arms around Jared’s neck and whispers words Jared doesn’t understand, but the sound is enchanting, ethereal._
> 
> _He doesn’t know Misha, not really — the other passed out at the saloon doors barely two weeks ago. But he’s… Misha. Wacky, witty and wise Misha who talks to spirits and looks at books he can’t read, who smiles like he hasn’t just lost his people and his home, whose lovely voice sings him to sleep, whose cheery laugh and sweet blue eyes are warmer than the scarf he wove by hand yesterday._
> 
> _Jared can’t help wanting to protect him, to keep him safe and happy._
> 
> _There’s a slab of rock, only half an inch underwater, and he leads Misha to it, pulls the other up to hold him close, lets Misha explore his body. Misha mouths his way down, teasing sensitive nipples till he’s writhing, nipping at places with his teeth to leave marks. Then Misha takes him into that perfect mouth, and_ oh. _Oh God._
> 
> _“Please,” he gasps. “Ah, Mish, ah, I’m— I’m gonna—”_
> 
> _But Misha just swallows him deeper, and the tight, wet warmth vibrating around him has him seeing stars._
> 
> _“Ah, Misha.” He covers Misha’s hand on his hip with his own and pulls him back up for another kiss to find Misha already hard again. “Tell me how you want it, Mish,” he murmurs between kisses, raking his fingers down Misha’s back, sliding his hand up Misha’s inner thigh, and Misha whimpers as fingertips trail over his balls._
> 
> _“Your mouth. Please.”_
> 
> _“Here?” Jared tugs lightly at them and is rewarded with a desperate keen._
> 
> _“Nngh, n—no.” Misha buries his face in Jared’s hair. “B—behind. Want your tongue inside me. Please. Jared, please.”_
> 
> _It takes several moments for Jared to understand._ Oh. _He’s never done this with a man before, so this is uncharted territory, but fuck, if Misha doesn’t look like he’d come completely undone from it._
> 
> _“Y—you don’t— Ah!”_
> 
> _Misha’s back arches as he cries out loudly. Jared presses his tongue in deeper, holding Misha’s legs apart, and Misha makes these desperate little sounds of want that go straight down. Misha tastes… clean. He palms Misha’s balls with his free hand as he licks in deeper, and Misha clenches deliciously tight as he almost comes._
> 
> _“Stop, nngh. Stop, stop, stop,” he breathes, pulling away, and then he’s pulling Jared up onto the rock with him before Jared can ask what’s wrong. He reaches for the forgotten soap bar, and then drops it to wrap his soap-slick hand around Jared’s cock, pinning Jared to the rock with his body. “I want you,” he mumbles, straddling Jared’s hips. “Inside. I want you.” And then he’s sinking down, it’s hot and tight, and they’re moaning as one._
> 
> _Misha looks so beautiful like this, like he’s completely strung out from the pleasure, like he’s already lost himself. Reaching up to card his fingers through wet hair, Jared pulls Misha down for another kiss, and Misha lets him, tangles their tongues and tastes him. Then he’s bracing his hands on Jared’s chest to lift his hips and sink down again. It leaves him whimpering, makes more precum leak from his glistening cock, and he squeezes his eyes shut as Jared takes some on his finger to taste. Misha does it again and again, head thrown back as he keens with pleasure and rides Jared harder._
> 
> _“Do I have to be standing still?” he teases breathlessly, and Misha gasps a short laugh._
> 
> _He bites back another moan as Jared caresses his balls again, and Jared thinks tomorrow he’ll finger Misha and fondle his balls till he comes untouched. Misha will, Jared knows he will. He’s a hair’s breadth from orgasm as it is. “No,” Misha manages at last. “You are not a horse.”_
> 
> _So he flips Misha over, cradles him in his arms and begins thrusting into him. This he understands. This is instinct. But Misha’s nails dig into his skin as he buries himself in that increasingly tight heat again and again, muscular legs wrap around his waist to pull him in deeper, then he sucks a mark into Misha’s collarbone. Misha immediately spasms as he comes so hard, it leaves him trembling._
> 
> _Jared’s vision whites out again as ecstasy sears through him, and Misha is cooing unintelligible words into his ears, but they’re soothing, perfect, like a lullaby._
> 
> _“Why’d you learn my language?” he asks softly, shifting to get them both comfortable._
> 
> _“Trade. Travel,” comes the answer as Misha idly traces patterns or symbols into his wet skin. “Mostly curiosity.”_
> 
> _“Mm,” he answers sleepily. “I’m glad. I want to understand you.”_
> 
> _Misha snuggles close, kisses him on the cheek, and he must have fallen asleep. For when he wakes, Misha is gone._

  


“It’s been weeks, Mish. I was about to head back to town. What kept you?”

“I found another tribe,” Misha replies, settling into Jared’s side. “I had to tell them our stories, help them prepare in hopes that they’ll live on to remember us.”

Jared stiffens. “Then you’re leaving again?”

Misha stills, looking away. “I… I should, shouldn’t I?” He sighs, fisting his hands in the hay. “If I don’t pass our stories on, my people will be forgotten soon.”

The importance of history is one Jared understands, and yet, he’s comforted that Misha would rather stay. He cards his fingers through dark hair. He wants Misha —of course he does— but not like this, not just another passionate goodbye leaving behind a gaping hole in his heart, in his life. He wants Misha waking up beside him everyday, learning to ride horses and read th— That’s it! “Write a book,” he suggests. “So they won’t be forgotten.”

Misha smiles up at him. “Like the ones in your room?”

He nods. “Some of them were written hundreds of years ago, and we’re still reading them today. Maybe someone will be reading about your people a hundred years from now.”

The other shakes his head, pressing a kiss to Jared’s jaw. “I’d like that. But even if I did, no one could read it, not really. Every tribe’s symbols are unique. I couldn’t really read the ones used by the other tribe I found. I’d probably have a hard time finding people who could read ours.”

“What if you wrote it in my language?” As soon as he’s said the words, he fears they sound disrespectful and ignorant, and he quickly adds, “I mean, if you do, maybe we could print copies, and get other people to read them too.”

Misha chuckles wistfully. “Jared, I can barely read your language; you know that.”

“I could write them for you?” Jared tries.

Misha falls silent, and Jared wonders if he’s been presumptuous.

“Mish, I—”

“You know,” the other interrupts, tightening his arms around Jared. “They said I was foolish, mad even, to think I’d found my soulmate among the pale faces. The sisters begged me not to leave when I said I had to see you again, told me you could never understand.”

Jared buries his face in Misha’s unruly hair. “Please don’t leave, Mish. I’m—”

“I’m glad I was right about you.” He tilts his head back in time to see Jared’s eyes widen as his words sink in, and then they’re kissing again. He laughs as Jared shifts him and cocoons him with his larger form. “I can’t go back out to town though.”

“I know.” Jared helps him sit up. “My brother’s been wanting to run the saloon instead of working on the ranch though. He’ll be happy to switch.”

Misha stands, pulls Jared to his feet, and they dust the hay off each other. “What about you? I mean, didn’t you head out there for a reason?”

Jared shrugs, fixing his clothes. “I have you.”

Misha pulls the sash from his robe and links their hands. “If that’s enough for you, then you’ll always have me.” He winds the sash around their joined hands. “I promise you.”

“Then I guess this really is yours now.” Jared grins, taking the medallion from his pocket and looping it over Misha’s head. “C’mon, let’s head inside.”

Misha nods, beaming, and they make their way back to the house hand-in-hand.

**Author's Note:**

> Thoughts? Suggestions on how to make this more Western? Please leave some! Thank you for reading. ♥
> 
> Many thanks to [Meinarch](http://sassypancakes.tumblr.com) for the quick beta.


End file.
